Dreamer, I am Dreaming
by His Spectacles
Summary: Harry/Draco. Despite what happened the last time, Draco goes to another celebration party and gets more than he bargained for. SEQUEL TO STRIP, DANCE, STRIP


**Dreamer, I Am Dreaming**

**One-shot**

Disclaimer: Read at my profile.

* * *

Draco fucking hated himself. A masochist, he told himself, drinking deeply from his Firewhisky. He hissed as the alcohol burned down his throat, liquefying his insides. His cheeks were red but he wasn't drunk.

He was just completely, utterly stupid.

"Thought you weren't going to come," Blaise calmly remarked, leaning against the armchair Draco sat on. He loosely held a Firewhisky in his hands, watching as an inebriated Granger danced wildly with Ginny. He took a tiny sip, devouring the Gryffindor with his eyes. "What changed your mind?"

At that moment, Harry Potter came striding into the room, his wet hair and rosy cheeks hinting that he just showered. He was wearing an old Gryffindor sweater that was slightly large on his slim frame and black jeans. He nodded at those who called out to him in greeting and Finnigan handed him a Firewhisky.

For a moment, it seemed that Harry would decline but then his eyes met Draco's from across the room. A slow grin worked its way onto Harry's face and he took the offered bottle, thanking his housemate without looking away from the blond.

The Slytherin felt the heat rising around him. Even from a distance, Draco could practically see those deep-colored eyes. It was impossible, of course, but the verdant color was so imprinted in his brain that Draco could not forget it. Then Harry was looking away, walking towards the refreshment table pushed against the wall.

"Ah," Blaise thoughtfully said. There was a concerned look in his eyes. "Listen, Draco –"

Draco abruptly stood up, staring at Harry's back intently. "I'm just going to get a…snack." Then he left Blaise, heading towards where Harry stood, stacking a plastic plate with chips.

Draco hesitated for a moment before he resolutely squared his shoulders and put his best archetypical Malfoy smirk in place. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ginny Weasley had stopped dancing and was glaring at him. She made a move towards them, but suddenly Blaise was there, luring her away for a dance with his unfailing charm.

Gratitude filled the blond Slytherin and he calmly stood next to Potter, so close that their shoulders were almost touching. He saw that Potter's shoulders were an inch or two higher than his and instead of feeling chagrined, a thrill shot up through his spine.

He couldn't forget what happened at the last party. It had been replaying constantly in his mind and now it began once again and it overwhelmed him, having that same naked chest in his imagination within touching distance. How it would be so easy to grip the edge of Potter's sweater and pull it over his arms and head, but instead of taking it off completely, leave it pinning the Gryffindor's hands together, like a bound prisoner under Draco's whim.

But oh god, Potter smelled so good. It was nothing but the scent of cheap soap but it had Draco's blood boiling. Draco licked his lips, cock rigid, and wondered why Potter hadn't reacted to his presence yet.

In fact, there were a lot of things he wondered about.

"Do you want something, Malfoy?" Harry finally spoke, cocking his head sideways and looking at him mildly. "You've been standing there for quite some time, doing nothing."

"What's it to you?" he automatically shot back, tone disdainful and snappish.

Harry just shrugged and Draco was helplessly drawn to the graceful movement. He inwardly cursed himself for acting like some lustful schoolgirl.

"Nothing," was Potter's only reply.

What, no defensive comeback? That wasn't like Potter at all. Instead of initiating a fight, Draco pulled back the habitual urge to insult Potter and grabbed a similar paper plate, blindly piling it with whatever food he could reach.

"Hungry, are you?" Harry politely asked, washing down the mouthful of chips he'd chucked into his mouth earlier with a long gulp of the Firewhisky. Smoke came out of his ears and he shook his head, riding out the burning wave after the substantial swig.

"Getting drunk?" Draco asked back, finally looking down at his plate. He hid a grimace at the greasy, unappetizing clutter he saw.

Harry turned slightly towards him, body language relaxed, considering who he was speaking to you. "Isn't that what this thing is about?" There was a bit of a dangerous edge to his smile and it immediately went straight to Draco's cock. Good thing he was wearing robes, which he always donned, compared to his yearmates who were beginning to favor Muggle clothing. It was beneath him to wear such things but he could unbend a little to appreciate the way the jeans clung to Harry's legs and arse.

Potter continued, waving his hand about carelessly in characteristic of one who was getting royally smashed, "Alcohol, sex, freeing inhibitions. Voldemort is gone, it's time to party!" Harry laughed humorlessly and looked Draco in the eye, his own filled with surprising bitterness. "To you, Malfoy," he half-sneered, toasting Malfoy and draining the contents of his Firewhisky.

Draco stared at Potter, stunned. This wasn't at all the cocky strip-teasing boy who had made him wank off in public from last week. For a moment, Draco wasn't sure what to do. Gladly putting down his plate, Draco took the bottle from Potter's slack fingers and set it aside on the table.

"I think you've had enough Firewhisky, Potter," Draco said a little gentler than he meant to. Again he cursed himself. Half of him wanted to punch Potter in the face, not just for the sake of old times but for what the bastard put him through last week, another part, the damnable side of him, wanted to push back Potter's wet hair and pet and take care of him. But all of him wanted to push the other boy against the wall and ravish him.

Shaking his head, Draco waved the bottle under Potter's nose. "If you can't handle your alcohol, Potty, then don't drink it."

Potter smiled and leaned close. "Malfoy, if you couldn't handle a little striptease then maybe you should have just looked away."

Shocked, Draco watched as Potter swaggered away, the words ringing in his ears. Fury and embarrassment exploded in him and his face felt hot as he raced after the Gryffindor. He wasn't even aware his legs had moved until he was pushing Potter to the ground, grappling with him and exchanging blows. After a split-second lent to surprise, Potter began hitting back. Draco hadn't drank a lot but he felt lightheaded and was unmindful of the crowd around them as he tried to break Potter's fucking nose. The bastard was laughing, managing to kick Draco in the shins.

Potter grabbed a handful of Draco's long blond hair and gripped tightly. "You're pathetic," the Gryffindor spat in his face.

"HARRY!" came Granger's enraged shriek, followed by, "_Immobilus_!"

Draco felt the unwelcome tingle of someone else's magic restricting his movements. They were trapped in their violent pose, teeth bared with Potter's hand fisted in Draco's hair and the blond's fist an inch away from Potter's eyes.

Granger loomed over them, looking angry. "I can't believe you two, still fighting! You're no longer children, for Merlin's sake! Why don't you both grow up?"

If Draco could move his mouth, he would have buried her under scathing remarks. As it was, Draco could only glare. Granger looked disgusted at both of them. "You two are ruining the fun for everyone else. Therefore, you are banned from the parties until you manage to be civil around each other!" She flicked her wand and they staggered into each other at the sudden loss of immobility.

Draco was the first to push away, getting to his feet and ignoring Blaise's attempts to aid him. His fellow Slytherins watched him warily, knowing how volatile their blond leader could be when pushed over. Instead, Draco tugged at his robes and stared down at Granger.

"This party is a sham, Granger, and it would be my pleasure to never come back," he drawled imperiously as if his shins were not aching or his scalp burning. He elegantly turned on his heel and left the room, Blaise anxiously trailing after him.

* * *

The hallway leading to the dungeons were cold. Draco wasn't bothered by it, used to the freezing temperatures of his dormitory. He had sent Blaise back to the party, preferring to be alone rather than keep up with the other boy's pestering. His anger still bubbled at the surface and the mere thought of Potter had him growling. That fucking git! And to think Draco ever thought him attractive! Draco must have momentarily lost his mind for the past week and vowed to hex Potter tomorrow, uncaring of the punishment for breaking the rules.

"Stupid, fucking Potter," Draco muttered to himself as he passed a complex tapestry of the rolling hills that bordered Hogwarts.

"I'm not fucking anyone. Yet."

Draco whirled around, pulling his wand out and pointed at Potter, who stood behind him. There was a coloring bruise on his cheek and Potter's clothes were wrinkled from their altercation.

"Why are you following me?" Draco demanded, keeping his wand steady.

A grin formed on Potter's face. "Because we weren't finished, Malfoy."

Then, before Draco could even form a retort, Potter was moving too fast and had him pinned against the wall, hands secured above him as his wand clattered to the floor.

Draco struggled, furious. "Let me go, you wanker! You – when I get my wand back I'll…."

"You'll what, Malfoy? You'll get me?" Potter laughed at his face.

Gray eyes narrowed. "That's right, Potter. I _will_ get you, you cocky son of a bitch. Even if you've beaten the Dark Lord doesn't mean you own the world."

"I don't like threats, Malfoy, so you better watch what you say."

"Well then, make me."

Which was never the right thing to say. Potter smirked, in that new uncharacteristic way of his, and his hold on Draco tightened, pressing their bodies forcefully together. Draco tried to lift his leg towards Potter's groin but Potter held him still. The anger was like a drug in Draco's veins and his chest tightened in loathing.

"Oh, I will make you, Malfoy. Then you'll be _begging_ for it," Potter whispered lewdly and Draco only had a split second to think that those words definitely weren't reassuring when Potter took his lips in a violent kiss, nipping and biting without any tenderness. Draco's mind reeled at the situation he was in, hating Potter for forcing him into this, for turning his darkest fantasy into reality but without making it _true_. His vision hadn't been like this, Potter holding him captive as he raped Draco's mouth. They were never unwilling. Stupid as it may sound, Draco had always thought it would be mutual, even soft.

Draco protested vehemently, trying to turn his head away but Potter took his face in his hand and forcefully turned it towards his. Potter's tongue traced the seam of Draco's lips, languidly, teasingly, while his hips moved in a slow, sinuous rhythm that had to Draco shut his eyes tightly to keep from grinding his own hips.

"Come on, Malfoy, I know you want it," Potter murmured into his lips, voice not cruel, but not kind either. "I saw you last week. You wanted me. You _want _me."

Draco's heart galloped in his chest, a madly beating thing. His body was reacting to Potter, the heat from the other boy making him dizzy, and his lips ached wanted more. But his pride kept him from saying the words.

"Fine then," Potter muttered angrily and took Draco's mouth again in a bruising kiss, stealing his breath away. Green eyes flared as the Gryffindor muttered something under his breath and magic weaved around Draco's hands, keeping them frozen in place so that Potter could use both his hands. Potter's sudden release of his magic overwhelmed Draco and he gasped. He was already hard, had already been hard ever since Potter accosted him, but he didn't want to give in. Not like this. Not just like Potter's plaything.

But it never occurred to him to call for help, as Potter's hands pushed his robes open, tugging his undershirt out of his trousers, large hands slipping to feel his flesh beneath in a violation. Potter's blunt nails raked against Draco's nipples and Draco gasped, unable to help himself. Potter kept on muttering spells against his mouth, casting wandless spells to unbutton Draco's trousers and letting them fall around his ankles. The Slytherin felt naked, exposed, and his cock twitched at the sudden blast of frigid air against it.

Lust was stealing his breath, making it laborious to breathe and Draco felt himself melt into Potter. Damn but Potter could kiss! And his hands were toying and plucking at his nipples, Draco's dick brushing against the rough fabric of Potter's clothes. His clothed back rubbed against the stone wall, his hands ached from being held immobile above him and Potter's rigid hold on his magic was gone and the power crashed into Draco's very being. The overwhelming flood made him moan, already delirious with Potter's hand curling around his aching prick. God, this was…this was…

Potter himself was quiet, watching Draco with half-closed eyes but the glimmer of desire was unmistakable.

So it was like this then. Potter was more powerful than Draco had ever imagined, his magic consuming Draco, and Draco wondered if the Dark Lord had been surprised at this unexpected power. Had he felt it the way Draco did now? Magic, power that was unbridled, hot, passionate, suffocating? Or had Potter shown him the cold fury of his power? Whatever it was, it drove Draco to the very brink.

Suddenly, the hold on his cock disappeared and Draco opened his hazy eyes and saw Potter falling to kneel in front of the Slytherin, the head of his dick brushing against the Golden Boy's cheek.

Draco swallowed in lust, panting like a bitch in heat. "Potter…"

With a ghost of a smile, Potter took Draco in a swallow, licking and sucking all the way. Draco threw back his head at the wet warmth of Harry's mouth and the pain of the impact of head against stone was unheeded. His hips were thrusting into Potter's sweet mouth, pride be damned, no longer a violation but a need, a necessity. His breathing hitched and low-pitched sounds vibrated from his throat. The intensity was going to blow Draco apart into a million pieces.

And Potter…Potter had his own jeans undone, his Golden cock jutting out with his own hand fisting it. Draco's toes curled as his orgasm hit him with unmatchable force, sealing the image of Potter blowing him, Potter's hand stroking himself, coming and coming with Draco pouring himself in Potter's mouth. Potter hadn't won, but Draco hadn't either.

Draco took in great gulps of air as his mind slowly came back to earth. His body was feverish and he could feel again the cold air of the dungeons. Potter quickly buttoned both their trousers, tucked Draco's shirt in and straightened his robes. Draco was exhausted.

Potter brushed Draco's hair away from his eyes, gave him a soft kiss. His magic was once again tightly reigned in. He whispered a spell and Draco was able to lower his aching, aching arms.

"Malfoy, I hate you," Potter said earnestly. "Truly."

Then Potter was gone, briskly walking away from him. Draco bent down and retrieved his wand, his fingers feeling nerveless after being held so long in an uncomfortable position. He still wanted to hex Potter. Draco pocketed his wand, hands trembling. His eyes felt suspiciously wet.

"Fuck."

* * *

END.

A/N: Hn, yes. I have written a sequel nearly two years after writing and posting the first part. Thank you for all those who commented and I know that you all wanted a happy ending but…but my vision for this story has never been a happy one. I still hope you liked it. Oh, by the way, in my LJ account, this story has the title of 'Dance, Strip, Dance.' I kind of confused it here.


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